Phoenix Flames
by iheartcoco
Summary: After the Battle, Ron and Hermione try to come to a conclusion about their relationship. One-shot. Light fluff.


**This is my first Ron and Hermione fic, so please excuse me if the characters seem a little off. I'd appreciate any constructive criticism as I want to try hard to make all characters in my stories believable, so I'd be grateful if you took the time to leave a review! Happy reading.**

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><p>Hermione shut off the tap and stepped back to peel off her dusty, torn clothes. Steam encircled her head, swirling in hot wisps around the small bathroom. It almost made Hermione feel faint but she knew that one thing she needed right now was a hot bath. Tossing her clothes aside, Hermione slowly stepped in to the hot water, carefully lowering herself as her skin prickled in protest. After she got used to the heat, the general effect was quite relaxing. She closed her eyes, allowing her body to float aimlessly in the water, her wet hair clinging to her skin.<p>

After the Battle was over it had become apparent to Hermione that she had no where to stay, however Mrs Weasley was quick to insist that she came to stay at the Burrow. After the loss of Fred Hermione didn't think it right to intrude on the families private moments, however Mrs Weasley's firm response had almost made her cry.

"You are a part of this family, Hermione. You always have been," Mrs Weasley had shouted over Hermione's protests. The same reply had been given to Harry too.

Although the Burrow was packed to bursting point, it felt strangely empty without one Fred Weasley inside it. Without Fred there seemed to be no life, no laughter, for though George remained he preferred to shut himself away in the twins old bedroom, only emerging at meal times. It was as if one gigantic Dementor had swooped over the place. And then there were the losses of Lupin and Tonks to think about, not to mention the countless others who had lost their lives in the battle. Although they had conquered the Dark Lord, it didn't feel as if they had won at all.

Hermione felt a tear slide unexpectedly down her cheek. She had not allowed herself to cry yet, and now felt the time. Before she could let rip however, there was a small knock on the bathroom door. "Hello?" Hermione croaked.

"It's me, Ron. Mum sent me up with a towel for you," Ron Weasley's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"Come in," Hermione called.

The door opened and a great gust of cool air flew in to the bathroom, chasing away most of the steam from the bath. Ron had gone visibly red, he was trying desperately not to look anywhere in Hermione's direction. "I'll just put this on top of the laundry basket, shall I?" He offered.

Hermione sighed. "Look at me, Ron," She ordered.

Sheepishly Ron did so. "Oh," He said softly, as he realised that Hermione was so heavily concealed by thick, foamny bubbles that the only part of her he could get a glimpse of was her head.

"Do you mind closing the door?" Hermione asked, nodding her head in the direction of the open landing. Ron closed the door and they both stared at each other again.

"How are you?" Both of them chimed simultaneously.

"I'm fine," Hermione muttered, "But how are _you_, Ron? Really."

"Really?" Ron sighed, "Fine, I feel like crap. Absolute crap." He said, flopping down heavily on top of the wicker laundry basket, which creaked beneath his considerable weight.

Hermione looked down and said rather tearfully, "I know. It's so horrible. I just can't believe... Gone," She swallowed. Ron nodded, understanding that Hermione's grief restrained her from stringing together a proper sentence.

"Mum's beside herself," Ron explained grimly, "Letters keep arriving, most are customers from the shop saying what a great loss it is. Like they know," Ron had turned suddenly angrily, "Like they knew him. Like they have the faintest idea..."

"Oh Ron," Hermione whispered, and this time she allowed herself to cry.

Ron wanted to comfort her, but under the circumstances he wondered how to without making things awkward. He loved Hermione, he realised that now. He supposed he had always known it deep down. That first kiss during the Battle had sealed their fate. They had stolen another kiss last night, shortly after arriving back at the Burrow, stood alone in the garden under the moonlight. She had even slept in his bed afterwards. Nothing had happened; no words had been spoken, they had simply held each other, immersed in their own thoughts. Now here they were, and Ron was wondering where they stood with each other.

Hermione wiped away her tears, smearing foam all over her face. Ron smiled as he stood up to gently brush it away. Hermione smiled back. "Wash my back for me?" She asked, holding a flannel.

Ron nodded, taking the flannel from her as Hermione leaned forwards. The movement had revealed a good sized amount of breast, and Ron was glad that Hermione could not see his flushed face as he stared at her, gently gushing water over the smooth skin of Hermione's back. When he was done Ron risked placing a small kiss at the nape of Hermione's neck. She sighed.

"Where do we go from here, Ron?" She asked, sounding almost like a frightened, lost child.

"Where ever you want to go," Ron replied softly.

Hermione turned and reached over, drawing Ron closer to her. He rested his head on her bare shoulder as she stroked his hair with wet fingers. "I love you Ronald Weasley," Hermione announced in a shaky voice.

There was a pause.

"I love you too, Hermione," Ron replied.

And although it felt as if they had lost the Battle, at least one small, good thing had arisen from it, like a baby phoenix emerging from flames.


End file.
